


summon

by moth_writes



Series: smiling fate [9]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: (set during some unidentified earlier year at Watford), Achilles trains Simon, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27876906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth_writes/pseuds/moth_writes
Summary: The Mage has Simon summon Achilles to teach him how to fight....Magic itches under my skin....“Hello, Simon,” he says. “I hear I’ll be teaching you to fight.”
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Series: smiling fate [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026844
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	summon

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the Carry On Countdown Day 10: Crossover

SIMON

I squint at the words harder. My eyes are watering and my head hurts, and this text is too bloody small.

“Read it aloud,” the Mage says from somewhere behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut all the way, banging my hands on the table and resisting the urge to storm out. To just leave and let him do whatever the fuck he’s planning alone.

He’d pulled me out of Elocution with barely a word and hadn’t explained anything. There had been a book, thick and old-looking, on the only not broken desk in the room (I think this is an old classroom. All the desks are in broken piles and the chalkboard is cracked down the middle.)(It looks like a bomb went off in here. Or like I did.) 

Magic itches under my skin. I scratch my stinging palm and take a deep breath.

The words are Greek-which would be fine, normally. I’m not great at Greek, but between Penny’s help and the months in third year when Baz insulted me in Greek constantly, I have enough memorized to hold a basic conversation.

(I don’t count the six years of classes. I rarely pay enough attention in them to learn anything.)(I get the notes from Penny, and Elspeth, Gareth, Rhys’ and I’s sometimes-study group meets once a week.)

“Okay,” I hum. I force a breath through my nose and focus on the page.

The words are still too small, and the font is something loopy and sharp even for Greek, but I manage to piece the sentence together slowly.

I say it over and over until I know it, until the Mage is tapping his foot impatiently and flicking through papers behind me.

I say the words aloud with magic.

I love magic.

It rushes through me, smoke at my fingertips and sparks along my arms. The hair on my neck stands on end, and a barely noticeable glow surrounds me.

I know what I look like. A monster. The sun. Something unnatural, something made of magic. I’ve heard it all before.

That doesn’t make it sting any less when I think it.

Wind whips through the room. The windows are all closed, though, and it only touches me and the Mage. I cast a glance back at him and he’s clutching at his hat and holding his tunic in place while he stares at me.

I turn back around before he can say anything and continue the spell. It’s rhythmic and smooth and feels like a chant, like something that wants to be said.

So I do. I say it, then again, and again until there’s a shape forming in the wind in front of me and magic shines like light from my chest and temples.

A sound like something tearing echoes through the classroom and the lights go out-including mine. There’s two shapes, two people shapes, piled on the floor like ragdolls on top of each other.

The last thing I remember after that is the floor rushing to meet me and the Mage’s shouting voice.

…

I wake up in the infirmary.

It’s familiar. That’s probably bad, to feel like that, but I’ve woken up here more times than I can count.

I think it’s still the same day-the sun through the windows is low, and I have that weird feeling you get when you wake up from a too long nap in the middle of the day.

I blink and it feels strangely tight. I reach up, and sure enough there’s a little bump where I must have hit it. (Medical spells usually require some sort of personal relationship to work really well, like, _kiss it better_ or the others I always forget.)(I know _some_ things. It would be thick of me not too, after how much time I’ve spent here.)

Nurse bustles around the corner and eyes me. She’s tall and pale and I’m pretty sure she’s some sort of god or magickal creature, because she never answers to anything but Nurse-that’s the only name she’ll give out-and apparently she’s been here for decades. She looks like she can’t be more than fifty, but Agatha’s mum claims she’s been around for as long as her family line can remember.

“You cut your head open on a piece of wood,” she says. “From the desk. I’ve been telling Robin Hood junior to clean up those rooms for ages, but no, no one wants to listen to Nurse.”

She hates the Mage, too. He’s tried to get rid of her. She refused, though, and gave him an earful about it. She’s told me more than once.

“Okay,” I say. “Thanks for patching me up, Nurse.” 

She nods and taps a long fingernail against my forehead. She must be satisfied, because she leaves after that, through the curtains to the next bed.

I lean back against the pillows and wait. The Mage will be here soon, or Penny will.

I’m not sure who I’m more afraid to see. 

Penny can be right terrifying when she’s angry, and she doesn’t curb her tongue with the Mage. (He doesn’t listen, of course, but he lets her yell. I don’t know why-maybe he wants her parents on his good side and he thinks letting her will help or something.)

I close my eyes and breathe.

…

I’m excused from classes the next day. 

I don’t have any injuries, but Nurse lets me sleep in late. I missed breakfast, but lunch is in about an hour so I’m not too bothered.

I don’t get back into bed after I finish in the bathroom. Instead I wander around the infirmary, making stumbling small talk with the few people there. (There’s a third year girl with two fingers missing on her right hand and different colored eyes who tells me about her experiments.)(Her eyes are supposed to be that way, surprisingly. She spelled away a couple fingers on accident. 

The next few beds are empty. Nurse leaves all the curtains closed so nobody can tell which beds are occupied-she claims it’s a safety thing, but it doesn;t make much sense to me.

At the end of the row, there’s two shapes asleep in the last bed. I look closer, then check the second to last-it’s empty, and the sheets are all wrinkled like someone tried to put them back into place.

They’re asleep, so I leave. I can hear the clatter of the doors opening and the food cart wheeling in, anyway.

…

I’m back in classes the next day. 

Sort of. The Mage sends a bird for me around nine, when I don’t have class. The note attached says to meet him at his office-I don’t know how long this will take or if I’m going on some sort of mission and I’ll be gone for days.

I’d say this is going to be bad for my marks, being out three days in a row, but honestly it won’t affect me much. Penny helps, and it’s not like they can get much worse. 

I walk quickly. It’s cold out and the wind stings my nose and ears, and if the Mage is going to punish me for messing up that spell it’s best to hurry.

It seems like there’s more stairs to the Mage’s office every time I go up. It takes forever before I’m knocking on the heavy wooden door and waiting for him to call me in.

He does, and I welcome the rush of warm air. The halls are always cold, and although I usually love that-it balances out my heat and makes me feel normal-it gets too much in the dead of winter. I push one hand through my hair and lean back against the wall.

“Sir,” I say, and wait. I’m always waiting for the Mage. He goes on his own time, Penny says, and he doesn’t care about making people wait for him.

I don’t mind. It gives me time to clear my head and focus.

“Simon, that spell we did the other day,” he starts and I tense. I know I fucked that right up, but usually the Mage punishes me for it on the first day if ever. I don’t want to write bloody _lines_ again.

I nod tightly when he doesn’t continue and he looks at me weird, like he’s actually seeing me for the first time since I came up. I don’t fight when he motions for me to take the chair.

“That was a summoning spell,” he says and there’s something I don’t like in his voice. “A _successful_ summoning spell, more accurately.” He stops, shuffling some papers around on his desk.

“Summoning what?” I ask when he looks at me. The Mage is a great man, but he gets caught in his own head sometimes and forgets I don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Ghosts. People, really, the spell grants them a corporeal form, but they’re long dead. I didn’t expect you to get _two_ , though, let alone _one_. I’ve been trying to cast that spell for close to seventeen years now with minimal results.”

I don’t ask who he was trying to summon. I think, idly, that I’m almost seventeen now. Or, well, I will be next June.

The Humdrum’s also been around almost seventeen years. Closer to it than me, for sure. I don’t say anything about that.

“Wait,” I say and pause. I’m thinking, and if this is right…

“You summoned and granted a temporary form to two long dead greek heros, Simon.”

I freeze. I can’t think, and what I do is muddled and confused. I summoned people? Dead greek heros?

“That would explain why I’m so tired,” I say stupidly. 

“Indeed.”

“Who are they?”

“Achilles and Patroclus, from the Trojan war. You know the one?”

I don’t, but I recognize Achilles. One of the greatest heroes, the warrior warriors looked up to. 

“The heel,” I blurt. I feel my face flush immediately and I look at my shoes to avoid the Mage’s eyes.

“Yes, the heel.” I’ve disappointed him. The Mage’s voice is flat and scornful and I wish Penny was here. “Achilles is to be your fighting teacher. He will train you in hand-to-hand and sword skills.”

I blush harder and scowl at the floor. I thought I was good enough with a sword already-I managed to slay a bloody dragon with it, didn’t I?

The Mage’s mobile rings. It’s the default ringtone and he doesn’t look at it, just waits for me to meet his eyes.

“You are dismissed, Simon. Go to the library, read up on Achilles. I expect you to know everything by tomorrow.”

“Classes,” I say.

“You’ve been dismissed for today. You will start training tomorrow.”

Tomorrow’s a Saturday, so at least I’m not missing anything. Except the football game-I’d planned to watch and make sure Baz isn’t plotting anything.

I nod and leave quickly. I don’t think he notices.

…

I’m extra loud on my way out of the room, just to annoy Baz. I slam the bathroom door shut and he flips over in his bed, pulling up the blankets higher.

The note the Mage sent yesterday afternoon said to meet him in one of the old classrooms-not the same one-at noon, so I eat quickly and go.

They’re waiting for me. The Mage and the two I saw in the hospital bed before.

They must be Achilles and Patroclus.

I nod to them and look at the Mage.

He looks distant. Like he isn’t there, like he’s already gone in his mind to do something else.

I look at Achilles instead.

He’s shorter than I am, with long blond hair-long for a girl, let alone a bloke. The other one, Patroclus, is a bit taller with curly dark hair. They’re both tan, more than an English summer’d allow. 

I step closer and offer my hand awkwardly. Six years in and I still don’t know who to greet people properly.

Achilles doesn’t seem to mind. He takes my hand and shakes-too hard, with a too tight grip like he’s never done it before.

“Hello, Simon,” he says. “I hear I’ll be teaching you to fight.”

“Yeah,” I stutter. I don’t mean to, but my stutter comes back when I’m nervous and I definitely am now.

“I’m the best there is, you know,” he tells me. “They called me _Aristos Achaion_. The best of the Greeks.”

“Not anymore,” Patroclus reminds him. It’s soft and teasing and the way they look at each other reminds me of Agatha’s parents. 

I remember what I read. Almost every one of the book in the library said there was a ‘deep friendship’ and a couple hinted around it, but none of the school books said outright that they were together.

I think they are.

I’m not usually the best at determining that. I try to stay away from feelings like I do from thinking. It gets overwhelming, sometimes.

But these two are so obvious anyone could see it. 

I shake Patroclus’s hand next and it’s warm and calloused. Warmer than I thought a recently dead person could be, but I guess I did give them forms. Maybe they got some of my heat too.

I let go and step back. The Mage claps a hand on my shoulder briefly as he passes but doesn’t say anything.

I watch Achilles. He watches me.

“So,” I say. “Should I summon my sword?”

“What? Summon?” He’s confused, so I mime pulling off my hip. His brow furrows and he glances at Patroclus.

I hum. He looks at me. We both wait.

Achilles shrugs. "I've seen stranger things than a sword out of air," he says. "Now, where to start..."

I don't say anything. His eyes are unfocused, so I think he was talking to himself more than me.

Patroclus steps in, laying a hand on Achilles’ shoulder. “Start with balance,” he suggests. “Small exercises to build agility and endurance, like we did.”

“I already know that!” I protest. “I’ve had my sword for six years already, I know how to use it.”

“Did you have lessons?” Achilles asks.

I think back to the one lesson the mage had given me-barely a lesson, really, he showed me how to summon it and how to hold it and told me not to cut myself. I shake my head slowly.

“Then we’re starting with agility and endurance. Now-” he grins wickedly-”do you have a field?”

…

I collapse into my bed panting.

Baz eyes me and sneers, tossing my pillow at me from where it’d fallen. I hug it to my chest hand flip him off as he leaves.

My muscles feel like jelly and I think my bones are shaking. I’m drenched in sweat, and I should shower before it soaks into my sheets, but I don’t think I could get up right now. I’m sure if I tried my legs would collapse under me.

I pant into the empty room. 

Achilles took me to the empty football field and made me run back and forth across it until I couldn’t feel my legs and them some.

And that’s all we did.

Just run and run and run, and I wasn’t allowed to slow down. 

I kind of hate him.

I hope we start actually using swords soon. I bet he’s ruthless on the battlefield.

I stare at the ceiling until I fall asleep.

I’ll regret not showering later, but I don’t care.

**Author's Note:**

> Simon had to learn how to fight with a sword somewhere, and i don't think care homes would have offered that type of lesson
> 
> Achilles' training tactics come from a patrochilles fic i read while I was still deep in that fandom. (The Good Soul-I looked for it but it seems to have been deleted)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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